


Second Impressions

by RocksCanFly



Category: DCU, Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), Gen, Kinda, M/M, Meet-Cute, Post-Invasion, Pre-Relationship, Redemption, except not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 11:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20389105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RocksCanFly/pseuds/RocksCanFly
Summary: Wyynde scoffed. “Even if I was still with them I wouldn’t kill you. Better to allow you to talk your way into execution.”Kaldur frowned, crossing his arms. “It is a repeal trial.”Wyynde eyed him speculatively, arms crossed in front of his chest to mirror Kaldur. “Then why are you trying so hard to convince them to kill you?”(The war is over and Kaldur's been called back to Atlantis for trial. It isn't going well.)





	Second Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from tumblr in celebration of Kaldur's canon boyfriend, Wyynde. 
> 
> Anonymous asked: for wyynde and kaldur: first meeting please
> 
> A/N: I know you asked for first meetings, anon, but I thought it might be a little more satisfying to explore second meetings, instead.

Kaldur swam wearily out of the courtroom, waving off Garth as his friend made to follow him. Kaldur had spent the last six hours recounting his time under Manta to the Atlantean High Court. They had forced him to go into excruciating detail, and by the end he could hardly defend himself from the prosecution. The pool of guilt that whirled in his stomach would rise, acid in his throat, and drown his words. 

His excuses for crimes committed for the sake of expediency.

The current dragged at his limbs, made leaden by defeat. Kaldur allowed it to pull him to an empty courtyard, sinking gratefully to a stone bench. The water was cooler here, unwarmed by the heat of hundreds of bodies crowding close for the lurid tales of his sins. 

Kaldur pressed his head between his hands, massaging uselessly at his throbbing temples. Ever since his..._mishap_ with M’gann he’d suffered from an increasing number of migraines. 

Whether it was due to having his mind shattered and rebuilt or the stress of finally being forced to face the reality of his actions was a question he could not answer. 

Kaldur pressed his thumbs to the corners of his eye sockets. Bright stars burst behind the dark of his eyelids. His gills flared, drawing oxygen from the water as he settled in to think. His course of action has seemed so clear at the outset of this odyssey. The scales had tipped irrevocably in favor of every betrayal, every act of violence. The lives he took weighed little when balanced against the fate of the planet that the choice had seemed like no choice at all. 

But now, at journey’s end, doubt plagued him. It settled over his soul like sheets of ice over the Arctic waters. He had once felt so clear-headed, knew in his bones what had to be done. And now uncertainty dogged every statement, every recollection of his reasoning. If not for the defense of his friends, as few left as he had, he surely would have talked his way into condemnation by now. Instead Garth and Lagaan spoke for him, casting a favorable light on the grim shadows of his trespasses. 

Despite their efforts, Kaldur had only the faintest glimmer of hope that his preliminary exile would be repealed. With the way the trial was progressing, he would be lucky to avoid more severe, permanent consequences. 

An electric tingle across the back of his neck roused Kaldur from his recollections. He kept his shoulders carefully slumped, resisting the urge to look up. 

Someone was watching him.

A friend would announce themselves. A passerby with no ill intentions would not approach at all. Kaldur had earned several new titles in the last year: traitor, murderer, exile. None invited passing conversation.

Water shifted behind him, pushing lightly against the bare skin of his bowed neck. Kaldur inhaled deeply, curling tightly in on himself. 

He was tempted to let it happen. Perhaps assassination would be less painful than explaining to stone faced families that their loved ones’ lives had been weighed against the rest of a distant world. 

That they had been found _wanting. _

But Kaldur knew himself to be many things. A coward was not one of them. 

He moved quickly, kicking up off the bench. Kaldur gripped his attacker’s shoulder, flipping himself through the water to press to the man’s back, sword pressed to the man’s throat.

Kaldur scowled, recognizing the intruder from years past. A Purist follower, Wyynde, with long hair and a nobly sculpted face that belied his poisonous beliefs. 

“If you’re going to assassinate the Demon of Poseidonis,” Kaldur said, pressing his sword more firmly to the startled man’s neck, “Then you should at least make an effort.” 

Wyynde did not struggle, but stiffened. “So you claim the title?” 

Kaldur’s mouth twisted. “My crimes are all I have claim left to. I will have them.” 

Wyynde was silent and still for so long Kaldur began to wonder if he’d somehow managed to kill the man without spilling a drop of his blood. Then he did something unexpected.

He_laughed. _

He laughed hard and loud, bending at the waist so Kaldur had to release his hold to keep from killing the man inadvertently. When the other man finally regained himself, he turned to look up at Kaldur with incredulous eyes. “So saving the world. That’s a crime?” 

Kaldur quirked a brow, not quite lowering his water bearer. “An odd sentiment for an assassin.” 

Wyynde shook his head, long hair swirling around his face like ink. “Have you considered that I’m not one?”

“Have you considered that I am many things, but a fool is not amongst them?” 

Wyynde floated back, granting Kaldur some distance. He gestured to himself, spreading his arms. “Do you remember me?”

Kaldur nodded. “Well enough.” 

“And you think I’m here to kill you?” 

“It would be a Purist victory,” Kaldur replied, relaxing despite himself. “A dangerous halfbreed slain by your people’s sword.” 

Wyynde scoffed. “Even if I was still with them I wouldn’t kill you.” He gestured at the courthouse, still trickling jurors and witnesses, the crowds that had come to observe one of the great trials of this century. “Better to allow you to talk your way into execution.”

Kaldur frowned, crossing his arms. Adrenaline had faded entirely. It was quickly replaced by bemusement. “It is a repeal trial.”

Wyynde eyed him speculatively, arms crossed in front of his chest to mirror Kaldur. He tilted his head, mockingly curious. “Then why are you trying so hard to convince them to kill you?” 

Kaldur’s fingers tightened around his arms, blunt nails digging into the inky black of his tattoos. “That’s not what I’m doing.” 

Wyynde pursed his lips, swimming forward slightly, into Kaldur’s space. “It is, though.” There was something soft about his eyes. It made Kaldur distinctly uncomfortable. Wyynde continued. “The Atlantean courts are not without mercy, or understanding. My own presence here serves as proof.” 

Kaldur wished for land. For the ability to ground himself solidly against the compassion coloring the other man’s voice. “And why _are _you here.” 

Blue eyes broke their gaze. “I left the Purists when I learned of their plan to overthrow the Crown and murder Queen Mera and Prince Artur. I have learned much since then.” Wyynde’s voice softened. “_Regretted_ much, since then.” 

Kaldur swallowed, sympathy struggling like a sun-starved vine upwards in his chest. He knew of regrets. “Fascinating, but that’s not what I was asking. Why are you _here_.” 

Wyynde’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. “You’ll think me foolish. It _is_ foolish.”

Kaldur shook his head, mouth twisting to match this stranger, this former enemy, despite himself. “You are not the only fool in this courtyard.” 

Wyynde eyed him. “Would you believe that I wanted to apologize? For what I said, years ago.”

Kaldur’s expression darkened. “There are others you hurt more. And I think I am the last person any Atlantean need apologize to. Even one such as you.” 

Wyynde’s mouth twisted, dissatisfied. “You truly believe that,” he mumbled. “Tell me, what would have happened to Atlantis if those aliens had been allowed to invade, unchecked?”

Kaldur sighed. He was tired of this argument. La’gann and Garth seemed to want to have it with him every time they spoke. “We would have perished. Or been enslaved. That does not excuse the lives I have destroyed.”

“Would you condemn another? For what you’ve done.”

Kaldur’s mouth twisted, grimacing. This too, was familiar. “No.”

Wyynde squinted at him, approaching cautiously. 

Kaldur wasn’t certain, later, why he allowed the intrusion. He had become unfamiliar with touch, over the course of the years. Of the last one, especially. It was all he could do then not to flinch from it, even when kindly meant. 

And yet he found himself frozen, unable to stop Wyynde from pressing into his space, so close the ink of his hair swirled and brushed against Kaldur’s own face in the gentle tug of the current. 

“Why then,” Wyynde asked, eyes locked with Kaldur’s own. “Are your sins so much greater than others?”

_Because I should have been able to find another way._

_Because I should have worked harder. Because I should have been more clever._

_Because I should have been able to stop it._

_Because I’m **me**. _

“Because I don’t know how to live in a world,” Kaldur said, finally. “Where I am allowed to walk away from what I’ve done.”

Wyynde smiled, a small knowing tilt of the corner of his mouth. “Have you considered that it is _dying _that would be walking away?”

Kaldur closed his eyes. “It has occurred to me that it sounds…simpler. Cleaner.”

A cool hand rested gently on Kaldur’s shoulder. “There is nothing simple or clean about redemption. I think, perhaps, that that is the point.” 

Kaldur opened his eyes. It occurred to him that in the past ten minutes, this man had gone from his supposed assassin to his confessor. That he had been more truthful with this former enemy than had been in months to any friend, any comrade. To this near stranger who knew something of guilt. 

“I fear,” Kaldur said, covering that cool hand with his own, “That you may be right.”


End file.
